


Ales, Arguments, and a Hint of Adventure

by vtforpedro



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bilbo Is Tipsy, Bilbo is So Done, Drinking, Humor, M/M, No Gandalf Influence, Things get a little catty, Thorin Broods, Thorin Has No Sense Of Direction, this is how they flirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:50:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7893106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins meets Thorin and his Company in a bit of a different way. Not with the aid of a wizard but rather with a few good ales and an 'accidental' dinner invitation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ales, Arguments, and a Hint of Adventure

Bilbo Baggins was a Hobbit from the Shire. He was simple. His favorite things in the world mostly consisted of food, gardening, reading, writing, and pipe-smoking. They may have been small joys in the eyes of Big Folk but to him and the majority of his kind, they were what life consisted of.

He was happy. Well, relatively. He had all the comforts of home - even moreso than other hobbits - and did not have to work all that hard in his life to keep them. His parents had left Bag End to him and any and all wealth they had gained in their own lives. He could not want for anything more, could he?

Well. His many family members might say he could want a spouse - a lovely hobbit lass, perhaps, and then a family to follow. They would say that was clearly what he needed if he expressed that, while happy and comfortable, there was an oddly empty feeling in his heart and a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch niggling in the back of his mind.

Something was missing but he couldn’t figure out what it _was_. He knew it _wasn’t_ a wife and fauntlings. Perhaps he just needed to finish his book or perhaps it was simply something that had crept up on him when he lost both his parents in a short period of time. Perhaps he just needed to take a short walking holiday and get a view of some different scenery, see if that might dislodge whatever was plaguing him. Perhaps he was simply making everything _far_ too difficult for himself.

So, maybe that’s why he let Hamfast Gamgee talk him into going to the Green Dragon Inn for some ales and maybe a sip or two of moonshine. One complaint and his neighbor (and good friend) decided he needed a solid night out with his fellow hobbit lads, good drink, dance, and song all around.

Might as well give it a go.

What he didn’t expect was a throng of dwarves to be at the inn as well, as loud and carefree as any hobbit, traveling from the Blue Mountains.

Bilbo wasn’t altogether sure of the dwarves, given they were not hobbits, but after a few ales he decided that perhaps they weren’t all that bad. Messy creatures, beards full of ale after just one mug, but they were fit to burst with drinking songs and poems and tales he had never heard before.

Almost all of them, at least. One wasn’t.

“Bofur,” the hobbit mused, taking a gulp of his ale as he squinted at his new friend. They had taken to each other like two peas in a pod! “I have to say you are a very merry bunch. So why does that one there not join in with you? He’s been sitting in the corner all evening long and reading that book. If I were to attempt to read in here, well, believe you me, I wouldn’t look so calm about it.”

The dwarf next to him peered over his cup and to where he had looked before he grinned at Bilbo. “Ah! You’ve spotted our great and mighty leader. Very rarely joins in with our nightly gatherings, most content to read or work while keepin’ an eye on us. Make sure we don’t get into too much trouble,” he said with a wink.

Bofur was the most cheerful dwarf he had met in his life! A very odd character at first glance, what with that hat and those braids and that interesting scarf; but one dimpled grin and twinkling eye was enough to snare Bilbo in and he was most glad for it. They had already exchanged lewd drinking songs and laughed themselves silly. If the hobbit were paying better attention (or had a completely clear mind) he may have noticed whatever wrong in his heart was slowly righting.

“Your leader, eh? I’ve never understood why leaders always feel they cannot join in festivities with whomever they’re leading! Makes them far more approachable and likable in my mind. Granted, I’ve never really been led by many in my life,” he said, gesturing with his mug. “But surely your… illustrious leader has a side much like this?” He waved at the rest of the dwarven occupants in the room.

“Oh aye, of course he does! He also happens to have a rather large stick up his arse and it depends on how he’s sitting on it if he’s in a chipper or sour mood,” Bofur said with a shrug. Bilbo nearly choked on his ale.

He coughed through his laughter, the dwarf next to him pounding on his back until he waved his hand. “Goodness, that paints an image I would have rather not had in my mind,” he said hoarsely. “I suppose he’s leaning the wrong way this evening.”

Bofur grinned at him. “He doesn’t know what to make of hobbits, really, much like you didn’t know what to make of us dwarves when you first wandered in. But, alas, he also has to keep a clear head given that not a one of us chose to do so ourselves,” he said, looking around proudly at his fellow comrades. “You never know what might happen when a dwarf has been too far into his cups with another race around. Ohh many a drinking contest, aye, but not always fair if you don’t know who or what you’re drinking against! And we do get a bit loose-tongued which can lead to a very grand night or a disastrous one indeed.”

Bilbo did not giggle, he _chuckled_. “I can imagine! I should think us hobbits might be much the same if we were to go anywhere near Big Folk. We can drink them under the table, you know. You dwarves as well,” he declared. “The trick is to increase your tolerance of moonshine over your first few drinking years. And to have a rather fine food intake, bellies always full, you know.” He patted at his.

The dwarf snickered. “Aye, you hobbits eat a dozen times a day! I nearly forgot! I cannot possibly imagine where you put all of that and all of this,” he said, waving his arms at the ever growing pile of mugs in front of them. “You are most small folk.”

“Excuse me, we are just the right size, it’s you who have grown needlessly big!” Bilbo said, waggling his finger at the dwarf. “And we only have _seven_ meals, perhaps eight on a very trying day and when some comfort food is needed! There is, let’s see… breakfast, naturally. Second breakfast, most important. Elevenses, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner, very important as well, and finally supper. And woe betide you if you miss one! Food is needed to survive so you might as well make the most of it and enjoy.”

“Mahal, you hobbits would eat us out of rock and stone if a clan of you decided to move to our Mountain! On the Road, we’re lucky to have three meals! It’s mostly two and not two of the best when you haven’t got an endless supply of food around,” Bofur said sadly, shaking his head. “I’m most envious of you hobbits. I believe I might fit in here, as well as I do with mine own kin!”

Bilbo grinned at him. “Well! Should you ever choose to become a hobbit, I would be most glad to help you along your way, and my home will be open to you! Come by Bag End no matter the occasion and I shall fill you up on good hobbit food. You must go to our markets before you lot leave, you’ll have better days on the Road, I can tell you that much,” he said, nodding at the dwarf before he finished off his ale. “I should like to make a toast but I believe I need a full mug for that.”

He had four more full mugs.

——

The hobbit had to give Hamfast a bit of credit - he felt a bit more right when he went about his next day. Well, his next afternoon, given his late morning was spent curled up in bed buried under his blankets and attempting to rid himself of a migraine.

He had made a few new friends and had a drinking binge worthy of his late tween years. Endless laughter and good song seemed to do the heart right, he supposed.

At least he supposed until dinner time. At dinner time he lamented that perhaps he had gotten a bit too close to the dwarves and may have been too welcoming toward them when he was in his cups what with the way they were piling into his home.

“Bofur…” Bilbo began cautiously, looking up and over his friend’s cheery face as he watched his fellow dwarves raid the hobbit’s pantry. “What on earth is happening to my home right now?”

“Oh, don’t you worry, Bilbo. We’ll restock the pantry for you tomorrow! But it _is_ dinner time,” Bofur said with a grin and wink.

“Yes, indeed it is. But that’s not really what I mean. I am more confused as to why I have dwarves in my home to begin with,” Bilbo said, wincing as he watched a whole cheese block fly through the air and into his dining room, caught by unseen hands. “And why they are planning to eat dinner here…? I mean, you are most welcome of course but, er, there are certainly quite a few more than _you_ here and, ah, I wasn’t actually planning on guests?”

Bofur clapped him on the shoulder. “Of course you weren’t! I didn’t get around to telling you we were coming! What with you talking about your home being quiet in the evenings and we dwarves welcome anytime to it, thought you might like to have another night of it,” he said, eyes twinkling. Bilbo was fairly certain the dwarf would have come no matter what he had said the night before but it didn’t stop him from blushing, unfortunately.

“Right,” he whispered, too shell-shocked to attempt to argue anymore as he watched two dwarves carry a full barrel of ale into his dining room. He had absolutely no idea how they were supposed to all fit in there but they seemed as if they were going to make it work and he really would rather just not get in their way at that point.

“Is- is this all of you?” the hobbit asked with a squeak, tugging at his collar as he did so.

“Ah, our _illustrious_ leader as you put it, is coming by as well. Rather thought he’d be here by now, actually,” Bofur mused, twisting his mustache in his fingers as he gazed around, looking oddly thoughtful. “Oi! Dwalin! Where is-“

“Lost,” a brown-haired dwarf, one of the ones that had been carting the barrel around interrupted with a cheeky grin. “You know he is.”

“Aye. He said he was right behind us, just had to speak with the innkeep,” the blond who had been helping him agreed, both coming to stand in front of Bilbo and Bofur. “And we know he is not a dwarf of many words so that’s the truth of it. Lost.”

“O-Oh dear,” Bilbo stuttered, looking down the hall in worry. “Should… should we not be concerned about that? Ah, did he know which hobbit-hole to come to? Should one of us go and find him? Given the time, he’ll have to knock on doors to find any hobbit around!”

To his surprise, all three dwarves began to laugh most uproariously and he honestly didn’t know what could _possibly_ be funny about being lost in an unknown town.

“Master Baggins, our dear uncle tends to get lost more than he’d like to say. Can’t wrap his head around things above ground sometimes, gets himself all backwards and is completely useless until he sleeps it off,” the brunet said with a blinding grin. “Honestly, it’s more amusing to let him wander in late and refuse to say anything about why. He knows we all _know_ why.”

Bilbo gaped at him. “Your leader is consistently lost? Is there not something wrong with that?” he asked with a huff. “My goodness, I hope he makes up for that in some way to _be_ your leader.”

The two younger dwarves looked at each other before they both gave the same, breathy laughs. “Nah, not really,” the blond said simply, clapping him a bit roughly on his shoulder before he sauntered off as if he owned the place.

Bofur rested his forearm on the hobbit’s opposite shoulder, sighing in mock disappointment, shaking his head. “The lads would never dare say such things in front of him. They’d lose their braids,” he lamented before he grinned at the look of complete confusion on the hobbit’s face. “You heard Kili, he’s their uncle. See, Kili is the younger of the two, that strapping young lad there is Fili. Troublemakers, if you can believe it. Pain in their uncle’s arse on a good day!”

Bilbo decided he really did not understand dwarves. “Oh. Er, right. Well. One can certainly see how they may be troublemakers,” he muttered as he watched the brothers carry two _more_ chairs into his dining room. “But were they joking about their uncle getting lost? I wouldn’t think with proper directions it’d be easy to but if one _were_ to get lost here, they may get a bit turned around and go in circles!”

The dwarf snorted. “He’s not so bad. He has an off day here and there but we all do. We’re dwarves! We come from below stone, above it isn’t our forte!” he said, shaking Bilbo with his arm. “I’m sure he’ll be around.”

The hobbit watched him walk off to help Nori, if he recalled from the previous night, carry his second barrel of ale into the dining room. He sighed, plucking at his suspenders and muttering to himself about the oddness of dwarves. Well. He would make sure they stocked his pantry, not a morsel less than the way they found it!

He jumped at a rather loud bark from a greying dwarf about being _in the way_ and scowled, turning and stomping off down his hall. “I should like to come to your home and tell you you’re in _my_ way!” he called, waving his hand over his head. “See if you lot remember your manners then!”

Honestly, he was trying not to be all that concerned about their lost leader (they certainly weren’t) but he found he couldn’t particularly help it and before he knew it, he was stepping out of his front door. Bilbo crossed his arms over his chest as he mumbled about dwarves, squinting his eyes down Bagshot Row to see if he might be able to make out a figure trudging along in all the wrong directions.

“Are you expecting someone?” a particularly deep voice asked toward his left and Bilbo let out a strangled cry as he whipped around to find it.

 _It_ was sitting on his smoking bench with a lit pipe and eyeing him as if _he_ were the one out of place. Right. Well. He could claim to have found their leader.

“Er, you, actually,” the hobbit managed. At the raised eyebrow he received, he huffed. “You are apparently the last one of my guests to arrive at my home unannounced! They’re making a mess of things in there, I’ll have you know. And I should hope you haven’t been hiding out here like you were in the inn last night due to all their ruckus! They were most concerned you were lost.”

The dwarf’s face went more than a bit stony before he turned away from Bilbo, looking out over Hobbiton and taking a puff of his pipe. “I was not _hiding_ nor was I _lost_. I’ve been in plain sight for all to see, Master Hobbit,” he said in a tone said hobbit could only term grumpy. “Do you speak to all of your guests in such a manner?”

Bilbo scoffed. The nerve of him! He had every right to be a bit put off by this whole thing and now he was being snarked at by a surly dwarf sitting in _his_ front yard, smoking on _his_ bench, enjoying _his_ view. “I should- you- well, as I said, you lot were unannounced! I didn’t know I’d be having guests, thank you,” he managed, narrowing his eyes at him. “I only remember half of you from last night and that was with Bofur’s help. And I didn’t meet _you_ at all. Actually, I do not even know your name! I am Bilbo Baggins, if you’d like to know.”

“Thorin,” the dwarf returned near instantly, not bothering to look back at him. “Apologies. I assumed you had invited us to come along last night. You seemed to form a close bond with Bofur and a few others from my Company. They were adamant about joining you for dinner tonight.”

Bilbo eyed _Thorin_ as he spoke. Certainly a different bearing than the others. He held himself stiffly and the way he spoke reminded the hobbit of someone that might lead a company - oozing with arrogance and false politeness. He certainly wasn’t actually sorry!

“Yes, I can see that for myself now that my pantry is empty. I shouldn’t have explained it to Bofur in such detail,” he muttered moodily, shooting a glare back toward his smial door. “He said you lot would be restocking my pantry and I will very much be holding you to that, Master Thorin, don’t think I won’t!” He waved his finger at the dwarf before he moved down and joined him on the bench. “What sort of company are you anyway?”

Thorin looked as if he were not particularly fond of sharing a small bench with the hobbit but given it was _the hobbit’s bench_ , he could keep his opinion’s to _himself_ , thank you very much. “What sort of company did they explain we were?” he returned.

The hobbit wrinkled his nose as he looked up at him, eyeing him with distaste. He was handsome for a dwarf but incredibly prickly compared to the others. “They didn’t really. We were enjoying ourselves last night and didn’t discuss why you lot were passing through. You are an odd sort of group to be traveling together. You don’t look on official business in any way and I should hope you’re joining a caravan if you’re traveling as far as the Iron Hills, with how small you are,” he said, furrowing his brow in bemusement.

“You think we could not make the journey by ourselves?” Thorin asked, bordering on defensive and mocking all at once. “Why would we need a caravan to do such a thing? Do you know much in the way of travel, Master Hobbit? From what I have come to understand of hobbits you do not travel at all, you only stay here, in your peaceful Shire.”

“We may not go beyond a walking holiday but we have common _sense_. Such long trips are normally done with caravans given how the Road is unpredictable. And you lot are so mismatched! You’re not merchants, I can tell that much, and you’ve all got weapons stored on you in one orifice or another! In my smial even, which is most impolite! As if you’re expecting to be _attacked,_ like dwarven _soldiers_ instead,” Bilbo implored, waving his arm back toward his home. “So, what sort of company _are_ you?”

Thorin was staring at him, holding his pipe against his knee now, looking at him from under a heavy brow. “You assumed yourself we would be going to the Iron Hills. We will not be,” he said with a frown. “Where we are going and what we are doing in our travels is our own business. Do not concern yourself with it, Mas-“

“I believe I told you my name,” Bilbo interrupted without a care. “Bilbo Baggins, if it needs repeating. Go a bit beyond just ‘hobbit,’ thank you, as you go a bit beyond ‘dwarf.’ You don’t need to tell me your business but considering you are my houseguest, it might be polite to explain how you came about _that_. I’m fairly certain it started with you stepping into the Shire. I haven’t really got any idea beyond that as I certainly do not remember inviting you and- and twelve other dwarves to my dining table tonight!”

“I am surprised you remember anything,” Thorin said in that tone that suggested he thought the hobbit well below him. “You were very deep in your cups by the time you left. I thought you would stay at the inn with Bofur given your states but one of your fellow hobbits insisted he could return you safely home.”

Bilbo gaped at him, feeling a blush spreading over his nose and cheeks. “W-With Bofur?” he squeaked. “I… I was not that far gone, I do remember some things! _Most_ things, thank you! I was being sarcastic, I _know_ I most definitely did not invite you lot to join me this evening! _With Bofur,_ for Eru’s _sake_. I didn’t know you were aware of anything beyond your own nose in that book of yours, you hardly left it! Perhaps you could have used a few ales of your own last night given _your state_. Which is ridiculously stuffy and rude!”

Thorin wasn’t bothering to hide a glare now. “You know nothing of why I was not partaking. Some of us need to keep our sense lest we all end up in the _state_ you were in and make ourselves vulnerable. If I am being _rude_ , Master _Baggins_ , I know not the term to give your behavior,” he said with a bit of a _growl_. “If you are so offended by our presence, you only need ask us to leave and we will. We would not want to impose on your good hobbit sensibilities.”

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he was actually _more_ offended by at this point. Bilbo glared right back at the dwarf. “I’m not offended by their presence, I’m offended by _yours_ ,” he hissed waspishly back. “At least they have been polite in some manner. I came out here looking for you and the first thing you did was insult me!”

“The first thing _you_ did upon laying eyes on me was insult me,” Thorin returned indignantly. “I did not need looking after.”

“Maybe not, but given you are one of my guests and those nephews of yours were certain you were lost in Hobbiton, I came looking after you! They wanted me to let you remain lost and I would be a horrible host if I let that happen! I was not insulting at all, _Thorin_ , I made the unfortunate mistake of walking into your cloud of grumpiness!”

“I was not _lost!_ I was enjoying my pipe before I joined the Company for dinner when you interrupted. If anyone had an air of _grumpiness_ about him this evening, it would be _you,_ ” the dwarf accused, pointing the stem of his pipe at him.

Bilbo scoffed. “I should never…! W-Well! You are a most- well, see here, you, you great big- big-“

“We may not offer lessons in Khuzdul but perhaps we can offer them in _Westron_ ,” Thorin interrupted him more than a bit snidely and the hobbit dropped his jaw.

“ _Excuse_ me?! What did- oh, how _dare_ you! How dare you!” he cried, hopping up off his bench and waving his finger at the dwarf. “You are the most rude person I have ever met in all my life and that includes _Lobelia Sackville-Baggins!_ Perhaps your dwarves need to elect a different leader as you hardly are the one they should give any respect to! Goodness gracious me! They had the right of it, a most large stick is up your rear end! We hobbits can offer you _advice_ in how to remove it and become a decent houseguest! And _person!_ ”

He turned on his heel and stomped to his smial door, shoving it open and shooting another glower back at the dwarf. “It should go without saying but you are most unwelcome in my home until you learn some decent manners!” he scolded. If he were a different hobbit, he may just send a rude hand gesture Thorin’s way, especially given how ugly his scowl was!

Bilbo turned and marched through his door, closing it harshly behind him and beginning to walk to his kitchen. He faltered when he realized how _quiet_ his smial was - in fact, he could only hear hushed whispers and hisses to keep it down.

Well. So much for those new friends!

With a burning hot face, Bilbo attempted to collect some of his dignity as he walked down the hall and stopped in front of the room packed with dwarves. He took a deep breath before he turned to face them, smoothing out his shirt before he paused once again. They weren’t staring at him with judgment or anger - in fact, most had their mouths open and looked to be in utter awe.

“Bilbo!” Bofur whispered. “We are most amazed! You managed to reduce the King of Erebor to a dwarfling mess and walked away unscathed!”

“Tell us your secrets, Bilbo, that was beautiful,” the dwarf, Kili, said with a grin. “I’ve never heard Uncle argue like that before. Once he gets that angry there’s no fighting him, there’s only self-preservation! Even _if_ he’s a houseguest.”

Bilbo looked between them, mouth opening and closing and with a growing sense of _despair_. “Y-You… king? What do you mean _king?_ King of E-Erebor? But you- Bofur, you did not tell me he is a king!” he hissed, pointing at his friend accusingly. “I just argued with a king?”

“To be fair, Erebor doesn’t technically have a king, given the Mountain is housing a dragon that kicked us all out an age ago,” Fili said as he picked at his nails with one of Bilbo’s knives. If he weren’t so upset about _King Thorin_ , he would be turning his ire onto that one next. “He’s mostly the king of the Blue Mountains right now. Thorin’s Halls.”

The hobbit swayed on his feet. “You lot… you are traveling with a king? Why was I not informed?! _Dragon?!_ What dragon? What are you _talking_ about?” he demanded, voice high in pitch.

“He’s looking a might green,” Kili said sympathetically and Bofur hopped from the table. He led the hobbit to his chair and sat him down into it and before Bilbo knew it, a cold cup of water was being shoved into his hands.

After a few careful sips, he raised his gaze and was met with far too many curious dwarven faces. “Can someone please tell me how it came to be that I yelled at a king in my front yard?” he asked as politely as he could, raising his eyebrows to his hairline.

A white-haired and bearded dwarf gave a long sigh. “Sorry laddie, it wasn’t pertinent information for our dinner gathering. Aye, Thorin is indeed our king, but there is no need to be informing anyone of such a thing while traveling. It would hardly be safe,” he said, giving him a knowing look. What Bilbo was supposed to know, he had no idea. “We are indeed traveling East but I am afraid that is all we can tell you, lad.”

“Aye, meaning no offense to you, Bilbo,” Bofur agreed, squeezing his shoulder and smiling reassuringly. “We’ve just got to be looking out for any ears listening that shouldn’t be. Not that you’d tell anyone, of course!”

“Of course,” Bilbo repeated. “Wouldn’t want anyone to know you’re going to try and slay a dragon and take your Mountain back from it.” He rubbed his hands roughly over his face before he looked back at the dwarves. They looked equal parts scandalized and shocked. “It’s a bit obvious to me at this point, you know! You lot are being so secretive about it and you’re heading East, where not many dwarven kingdoms lie anymore _and_ Thorin already said you weren’t headed for the Iron Hills! And you referred to him as the King of _Erebor_ , not King of _Ered Luin_.”

The elderly dwarf shot him a flat look. “I was not aware hobbits were so learned in the geography of Middle Earth. We haven’t met one that is at any rate,” he said in a tone of resignation. “You are most sharp, Master Baggins. We are not going to slay a dragon - though it would be ideal - but we are venturing East to take a look at the state of Erebor. Can we trust you to keep that information to yourself, laddie?”

Bilbo snorted, loud and in exasperation at these _dwarves_. “Who am I going to tell? My neighbor? Of course you can, I haven’t got anyone I would even _want_ to tell of this! The Shire would never let another dwarf feel welcome if they knew! They would think you all very mad. I myself think as much but most of the Shire thinks I’m mad as well,” he huffed out, glaring around at them all. “I enjoyed my time with many of you last night but I’m afraid this evening isn’t turning out _quite_ the same.”

He shot a rueful smile at Bofur and earned some chuckles out of it.

“Not enough ale,” Kili said with another grin. “Think that was the deciding factor on how much enjoyment we had last night. Should’ve gotten Bilbo into his cups again before letting him meet Thorin.”

The hobbit wrinkled his nose at him. “He’s already seen it once, he doesn’t need to see it again. Goodness, he’s seen me at my two worst moments and I’ve had one conversation with him!” he moaned, burying his face in his hands. “I should go apologize. No no, I really should, we were both acting like children.” He waved off a few protests before he pushed himself to his feet once more.

“I would ask if you need anyone to cover your arse but I should think we would more than likely be asking that from you,” Bofur said with a wide grin. “But do holler if you need anything.”

“I have a strange feeling I’ll have spies on my rear anyway,” Bilbo muttered with a roll of his eyes as he wandered into the hall of his smial and marched to his door.

He did not know Thorin at all but he had a very strong feeling the dwarf would be right where he left him. He confirmed as such as he stepped outside, pulled the door closed behind him and looked back to his bench. The king wasn’t smoking anymore and looked much more hunched in on himself than when Bilbo first joined him. At the sound of the door, he looked back to the hobbit and immediately went all stone-faced like before.

“Oh enough of that,” Bilbo said as he wandered down and joined Thorin on the bench once more, ignoring how stiff he went. “I am sorry for all that nonsense. I’m afraid the unexpectedness of all of this was fraying at my nerves a bit. And you were rather rude yourself.”

Thorin huffed at that but his shoulders relaxed the slightest bit and he glanced sidelong at the hobbit. “Perhaps I was,” he allowed. At the unimpressed look he received in reply, he sighed. “I apologize, I should not have behaved in such a manner. I think we both may have… frayed nerves this evening. But the behavior was unbecoming of me, especially so as a guest of your home.”

Bilbo nodded in satisfaction. “Thank you for your apology and you are forgiven,” he sniffed. “May I ask why your nerves are frayed? Thinking on the _dragon_ you plan on slaying, your _majesty?_ ”

The dwarf prickled once more, his spine snapping straight as he turned to look at the hobbit, a flash of anger and _violation_ covering his features. Bilbo knew it was not at himself and when he heard the king mutter about the lack of sense in his dwarves it was most certainly obvious.

“They should not speak so freely of our purpose. Though slaying a dragon is not what we wish for,” Thorin muttered. “We are traveling to Erebor to see if the dragon still lives. We will decide what we must do from there. It has been long since I have stepped foot into the Mountain I was born in. My nephews have never seen it.”

Bilbo hummed thoughtfully as he eyed the dwarf next to him, furrowing his brow. “And if the dragon still lives I suppose you’ll decide you might want to slay it then?” he asked and received a grave nod in return. He rolled his eyes. “Goodness, I shall mourn you lot the moment you leave here. I told you you were too small a group and now that I know you may be taking on a dragon I am convinced you won’t live to see the next year. Why on earth, if it has been so long, do you wish to travel to Erebor now?”

Thorin did not look pleased with him. “It is time for us to,” he answered in as vague a way as possible. “You are very loose-tongued, Master Baggins. Most do not speak to me in such a way.”

Given that his tone was not hostile, Bilbo decided not to take offense. “Well. You’re not my king,” he pointed out, gesturing between them. “You are just a moody dwarf come to join a simple hobbit for dinner. We don’t have kings in the Shire and I don’t find you all that impressive, to be honest.” He grinned a little at the look he received in return.

“I’m afraid once you’ve shown your most childish side to someone there is no recovering from it,” he declared. “I say! Throwing me off my game and insulting my capacity to speak my own language properly after you do. A very tween-like thing to do.”

Thorin chuckled, seeming a bit caught off guard by the sound coming from his _own_ throat. “I apologize for that remark. You did return it by saying I was not a leader that should be respected so perhaps we are even now?” he suggested with a smirk. “And we can act like the adults we are meant to be?”

Bilbo huffed in mock derision. “I suppose we can do that. Though you will still have to prove you are a decent person as I do not know you at all, _King_ Thorin,” he announced before he stood, motioning for the dwarf to follow. “Come and join your loyal dwarves for dinner. And no lecturing them in my home, thank you, no need to bring down the mood.”

The dwarf stood and followed and Bilbo could _feel_ the flat stare being sent his way on the back of his head. “Which of my loyal subjects insulted me by saying I have a ‘stick up my rear end?’ Perhaps I can simply lecture him. That is no way to speak of your king,” he said. “It is bordering on a betrayal.”

“Well, I can’t seem to recall who stated it first but they all agreed, so you best just forget about it or you will be traveling to Erebor alone, I’m afraid,” the hobbit said, looking up at the king as he stepped into his smial, the dwarf sweeping his gaze along it. “Cloaks can go there and sticks can go there.” He motioned at the pile of traveling cloaks on the ground, all hooks having been claimed.

Thorin sighed. “Very well, Master Baggins, we’ll do it your way,” he stated as he tossed his own belongings onto the mountain of cloaks. “I will save my lecturing until we are far away from your good hobbit sensibilities.”

The hobbit snorted. “Get on the wrong side of me again, Thorin, and I will show you just how far those good ‘sensibilities’ extend, believe you me,” he said, waggling his finger under the dwarf’s nose. “Go on then, go join them eating me out of house and home! I’ll simply embrace it now that I no longer have a choice and join in as well. Perhaps you can tell me more about this dragon of yours while we dine. Once you’ve gone, I’ll write about the Demise of Thorin and His Company, who I knew for _far_ too short of a time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few days ago, thought I would share it? I had a mighty need for these two idiots to have a ridiculous argument and the Company to hear it. Maybe Bilbo gets offered the opportunity to be their burglar because of this or maybe he stays home and Thorin returns a dragon slayer hero and sweeps him off his feet. Who knows?
> 
> [My tumblr if you feel like chattin'!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vtforpedro)


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